Strange Friends
by Sandra S
Summary: About Harm and Webb. No story, just a few episodes exploring their unusual friendship.
1. Beck and Call

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: The friendship between Harm and Webb as I saw it around Season 5-6. A pity they destroyed it. These are short scenes I actually wrote a long time ago but never made it into a full story.

* * *

**- JAG headquarters, Fall Church, Virginia. Early afternoon. **

"Damn it! This doesn't make any sense!"

Frustrated threw Harm his pen on the paper littered desk in his office then ran both hands through his short hair. He glared at the mess as if it was a personal enemy.

"I'm sorry, Sir," replied Bud automatically from the visitor's seat. He shot his superior officer a guilty look. "But I just don't know where to look any more..."

Harm groaned. "It isn't your fault, Lieutenant." He picked up the pen again and sighed when the sorrowful expression remained on Bud's full face. "Really, Bud. Besides, maybe the Colonel has had more success."

"Unfortunately nothing concrete," a voice from the door cut in. Both men looked up as Mac entered the small room. "But on the other hand something quite interesting."

Harm tilted his head. "And that would be?"

"That the information I wanted to get is not available. For us."

"Excuse me?" Harm raised his brows disbelievingly. "We are investigating a case of severe theft and they keep information from us? Who?"

Mac smiled thinly. "Officially: the State Department."

Involuntarily Harm and Bud sat more upright in their chairs. They exchanged a meaningful glance.

"And unofficially?" Bud asked finally.

"Guess."

"C.I.A.," said Harm dryly.

Mac nodded. "That's the impression I've got."

"Oh, oh." Bud shook his head. "I don't think the Admiral will like that."

He should be right.

* * *

**- JAG headquarters, Fall Church, Virginia. Admiral Chegwidden's office. **

"CIA?" thundered AJ Chegwidden in a voice that rattled the windows. His sharp eyes fixed the three officers standing in front of his large desk. "What the heck does the CIA have to do with our case?"

"We don't know yet, sir," Mac answered respectfully, "But since all traces we followed hit a dead end sooner or later it seems an appropriate assumption. Especially because the State Department seems to be covering up."

Chegwidden thought about that for a moment with pursed lips. Finally he slammed his hand down on his desk.

"If the CIA got a hand in this Webb usually isn't very far away. Call him. Tell him, I want to know what game they are playing this time and that I want to know it yesterday! And if he continues hindering our investigation he will have to answer to _ME_ - personally. That you can tell him too! Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

The two Navy officers and a Marine stood at attention and then left the room. On their way to Harm's office they shared a knowing grin.

"Can't wait to find out how he'll try and wriggle out of this one."

Harm sat down behind the desk while Mac took the visitor's seat. Bud closed the door and then stood at her side. Meanwhile Harm had got the cell phone number Mac had stumbled upon during her investigation involving the attempted assassination of President Putin out of his desk drawer and dialed. Then he activated the loudspeaker.

* * *

**- Somewhere far away, a dark hotel room**

The persistent ringing of a mobile phone cut through the silence. The still figure on the bed started then rolled over. A hand fumbled blindly in direction of the nightstand, toppled over an alarm clock, found the cable of the lamp and, following it to the switch, turned on the light. After disentangling himself from the sheets the man finally got hold of the chirping phone and took the call.

"Webb."

"Hello, Mr. Webb," an all too familiar voice replied cheerfully, "This is Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior speaking..."

Webb groaned deeply and fell forward into his pillow.

* * *

**- JAG headquarters **

Through the speaker came something like a muffled groan and a soft splash. The three assembled officers stared at the phone with raised eyebrows and then looked at each other. Their faces perfect pictures of utmost confusion.

"Err, Webb? You still there?" Harm asked reluctantly.

* * *

**- Somewhere **

Webb lifted his head from the pillow and brought the cell phone back to his ear.

"What _DO_ you want, Rabb?" he hissed more than a little annoyed. Grabbing the alarm clock he threw a quick glance at the time. He barely suppressed a second groan.

* * *

**- JAG headquarters **

Back in JAG headquarters Harm had regained his footing. His voice was challenging.

"What do you know about the Baltimore affair?"

Several seconds of silence followed. Then:

"Baltimore affair? Rabb, I hope for you, you didn't call to reminisce about old times?"

A definite growl had entered Webb's voice.

"Baltimore three days ago. Someone stole almost a dozen crates with highly dangerous weapons from the Navy base there," Mac cut in.

"Should have known you're in it too," Webb snorted through the line. "Fascinating piece of information you've just given me but what's that got to do with me?"

"We were denied access to information for this case. Supposedly on order of the State Department," Bud explained.

"Jesus, what's this - a damn conference call?" Webb's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Any chance the Admiral is listening in too?"

Involuntarily Harm grinned. "No, but I'm authorized to tell you that you will personally have to answer him if he isn't immediately informed about what's going on."

"Well, tell him to go and cool his temper at the State Department. You just said that they are keeping information from you, didn't you?"

"We said supposedly."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, Webb. That another one of your schemes, isn't it?" Harm was about to lose his patience.

"Do you really expect me to answer that? Besides, I've got to disappoint you. It certainly isn't one of _MY_ schemes."

"Webb, the things they stole range from machine guns up to grenades. I don't have to tell you how much damage they could do with all that," Mac said hastily and just in time to cut off Harm's sharp reply. She gave her partner a meaningful look. Harm rolled his eyes.

The line was silent. Then there was a sound of moving cloth and a creaking noise that seemed strangely familiar. Harm, Mac and Bud once more exchanged questioning glances. Mac first reached the right conclusion. Her voice rose in disbelieve.

"Are you in bed? Webb, it's half past two in the afternoon and the sun is shining brightly!"

"Well, that's good for Washington. _HERE_ it's in the middle of the night," Webb snapped back.

The three officers sat dumb-struck for a moment.

"Oh," Bud muttered finally and with that expressed the general feelings rather adequately.

* * *

**- Somewhere **

Webb allowed himself a short smirk. He ran his fingers through his tangled hair.

"Listen, I really can't help you this time. But talk to Richard Gowder in the State Department. You might tell him you know me, perhaps he'll give you something. Otherwise I don't want to have anything to do with it, is that understood?"

"All right then," said Harm after a moment. "But if we stumble yet again across the Agency you can prepare for another call. No matter what's the time where you are."

"I'll change my number," growled Webb under his breath. Sometimes his acquaintances from JAG got terribly on his nerves. You helped them, tipped them off ... and got threats in return.

"Good _NIGHT_, Harm," he said aloud.

* * *

**- JAG headquarters **

"Good night, Webb," said Harm, "And thank you."

But by then the line was already dead.

* * *

End of Episode One


	2. Crossing Roads

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**- Tokyo, Japan. A little park somewhere in the city. **

"Well, you've got to give them that. The Japanese know how to do their gardens."

Colonel Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie took a deep breath as she let her eyes wander. Bands of tiny white gravel coming out of different directions met around the large water basin in the middle of the free space in the centre of the little park. White and golden koi carps were moving serenely just beneath the still surface. Cherry trees provided shadow for the delicate, strangely shaped benches made of lacquered wood while neatly clipped bushes secured one's privacy. The shimmering paths seemed freshly raked. She smiled relaxed.

"It must be even more beautiful when the trees are in blossom."

"Then there would be even more tourists and you couldn't take a step without ruining someone's photo." Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior shrugged. "But I will admit that you could almost forget the noise of the traffic down here."

Mac sighed and gave her friend and colleague a sour look. Men. Not the least sense of atmosphere.

Against her will she glanced up the steep concrete wall that formed one side of the park. There a wide stairway led up from the tranquil seclusion of the little park to the hectic life and noise of a crowded four-lane street running towards the center of this busy city. Grimacing inwardly she turned and considered the line of tall buildings rising up into the unbelievable blue sky behind the thin row of trees. They were by no means skyscrapers, not here, but still high enough to diminish the light in the deep cuts of the streets between them.

Suddenly she realized that the man at her side had continued talking and she looked back at him. "What?"

"I said: Do you see Randolph anywhere?" Harm repeated unabashed, completely unaware that he had just ruined the good mood of his partner.

"No. Looks like he hasn't arrived yet."

A group of teenagers with torn jeans and washed out T-shirts passed them by. It was surprisingly quiet, not many people had found their way into this little oasis. For Tokyo. Maybe about two dozen Japanese men in suits walked along the crunching paths, a few women in business costumes strewn in. Several Europeans - or at least of western descent - were easily recognizable as tourists due to their big eyes and heavy photo bags slung over bent shoulders. A flock of small birds landed at the basin and drank, ignoring the curious kois.

Harm took off his cover, fiddled with it then put it back on. "Well, maybe we should -"

The call of a clear voice cut him short.

"Sarah! Harmon!"

They turned both. And froze in shock.

Clayton Webb was hurrying down the stairs from the street. A waving, grinning Clayton Webb. A Clayton Webb in just his shirt without jacket or vest. And not only that but the sleeves of the shirt were rolled up almost to the elbow, the collar open and the tie loosened and a bit askew. The hair an elegant mess.

The two JAG officers stared at him like a hallucination.

"Hey, you two!" Webb jogged dynamically across the patch of gravel separating them. The untypical smile grew even wider. "There you are. Have you been waiting long?"

He didn't give them any chance to answer. Before Mac knew what happened his hands were on both sides of her head and he was kissing her. Directly on the mouth. An intimate and - she got to admit that despite her stunned disbelief - surprisingly nice kiss.

At her side Harm gasped audibly for air. He reached out to jerk the CIA agent away from his partner but Webb had released her already, whirled round and grabbed the lifted hand as if in friendly greeting. Harm would have never thought Webb could have such a crushing grip. The smaller man was shaking his hand enthusiastically up and down and in addition slapped him heartily on the shoulder with the other. Harm had never known Webb could slap that hard. And all the time that jovial grin never left his face.

"How was your flight? Sorry I'm late; I'll just say: Tokyo traffic - terrible. And the meeting went longer than expected too. Are you hungry? There's a delicious sushi-bar just around the corner..."

Without pause and seemingly even without breathing once Webb hooked his left arm under Harm's, wrapped his right around Mac's shoulders and started dragging them both with a little bit more than gentle force in the direction of the stairs.

"Come on, come on, shake a leg. My parking up there isn't exactly legal and believe me, getting a ticket is _REALLY_ expensive here. Besides, it wouldn't be the best publicity for America. Have you already checked into your hotel? By the way, you look a little green around the gills been airsick again, Harm? How's little AJ? Still busy playing admiral?"

"Webb..." Feeling somewhat dazed Harm tried to wriggle free of the other man's grasp.

"Don't be stupid, Rabb," Webb hissed with unexpected sharpness but so quietly only the two of them were able to hear him. Aloud he continued: "We've got to turn right up there. Tell me, you packed more to wear than just your uniforms, didn't you? There's a club, well, it's an absolute must, believe me. But tuxedo and evening gown only. But don't worry, if you haven't got that with you it's no problem at all either. I know a shop where..."

They reached the street and almost had to run to keep up with Webb's long strides as he pulled them along. After several yards the agent suddenly stopped talking. He glanced over his shoulder but didn't slow his steps. A convoy of trucks passed them with deafening noise. The sound followed them down another flight of stairs and into a rather narrow street shadowed by high buildings. Windows rattled audibly then a treacherous silence settled around them. While a long line of parking vehicles nearly blocked the roadway only few people could be seen and those near hurried past without looking.

Webb stopped abruptly, cast a quick glance left and right then pulled his arms back. He stepped away from them. The smile had disappeared from his face like chalk from a blackboard as he put his hands on his hips.

"What the heck are you doing here? And especially, what did you want in that park?" The familiar snarl was back in his voice.

"Now you wait a second, Webb!" snapped Harm enraged. "First you'll explain that little stunt you just pulled!"

Webb's gaze was freezing. "That's none of your business. Answer my question."

"First you'll answer mine!"

The agent took one step closer and narrowed his eyes threateningly at the other man. That he had to crane his neck to do so ruined the effect somewhat but didn't seem to bother him much.

"Commander Rabb. I don't have time for discussions. What - did - you - two - want - in - that - park?"

And something in his voice prompted Mac to answer.

"We were about to meet one Daniel Randolph. An American businessman who supposedly was in the same bar as a petty officer from the _Thomas Lions._ At the same time as said petty officer is accused of starting a fight with several Japanese sailors several blocks away."

Webb turned his head to look at her.

"The incident down at the docks?"

"You know about it?" Harm immediately cut in while Mac frowned.

Webb shrugged and stepped back again.

"I heard about it, yes. And before you ask: No, I've got no further information about it and no, I'm not further interested in it too." He glanced at the other side of the street then back at them. "Go back to your hotel, your ship or wherever you want to but I _DON'T_ want to see your uniforms back in that park under any circumstances, understood? You can meet this Randolph another time."

With that he turned on his heel and started across the street. Harm and Mac exchanged a quick look and followed him close up.

"What's going on here, Webb?"

"As I just said, Commander, that's none of your business." Webb rolled down his sleeves, buttoned up his shirt and straightened his tie accurately. Then he run his fingers through his hair and restored his usual neat appearance with casual, well-practiced ease. "Go away."

"Oh, no. Not until I've got an answer."

The rear door of a silver, rather modest van opened a crack and a black man popped his head out. He raised his eyebrows at Webb.

"And? Did they buy it?" The agent asked harshly.

The man glanced quickly at the two officers then nodded. "At first they seemed a bit alarmed but they're still there. Coming?"

"Just a second." Webb turned back to his acquaintances from JAG. "Listen. I don't have answers for you. This concerns neither you nor your case. So be happy I just saved your necks and stay out of our way. Now go!"

Without giving them a possibility to respond he climbed into the van. For a brief moment they could see past the man who held the door for him and glimpse two or three Japanese looking men with headphones in front of a complicated instrument panel. Then the door was slammed shut and they stood alone.

Mac looked at her partner. Harm seemed angry enough to start hammering against the side of the van any moment. She put a hand on his arm.

"Let's go, Harm. You know Webb," she said quietly. "We won't get compliments for interrupting a CIA operation."

"CIA operation." Harm gave the closed door a hard look. "I don't like that, Mac. Think of all the times he held back information important for us."

"True, but what if this time it really doesn't have anything to do with our case?" Mac argued calmly.

Harm snorted. "Would be a first."

"So? What about Australia?"

Harm grumbled audibly under his breath and Mac quickly hid her smile. She jerked her head up the street.

"Come on, Harm. We'll phone Randolph and change the meeting point. If he's willing to do that we'll know that Webb told the truth and it was coincidence we stumbled across one another. If not - well, then we've got something to go with."

She started walking and after a moment Harm sighed and followed slowly. But not without a last glance back over his shoulder.

Behind them in a surprisingly silent street between tall buildings stood a modest, silver van in the long line of vehicles parked by the roadside. No sound could be heard from within. No movement indicated that anybody was inside.

* * *

End of Episode Two


	3. Moments Lost

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**- Somewhere on the coast of the Chesapeake Bay. Saturday morning. **

Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior whistled happily as he worked to get his little sailing boat ready to put to sea. It had been some time since his last trip - too much for his taste. Well, truth to be told, it was his own fault because normally he rather spent his weekends flying his old, red biplane "Sarah". He glanced up at the marvelous blue sky and smiled as he felt the fresh breeze on his face.

No, today was simply perfect weather for sailing.

A pity he had to go alone, though. But Renée was working at the West Coast this week and Mac he could not ask. Not any more. Not since she got engaged to Brumby. He shook those thoughts off.

Harm was just climbing towards the bow to free the front rope when a movement at the land end of the jetty caught his eye. He glanced over, looked back down at his hands, realized with some delay what he had seen and jerked his head back up. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

That couldn't be true. It simply couldn't. But there was no doubt. A familiar figure in a dark three-piece suit was striding purposefully in his direction.

Webb's entire air radiated arrogant self-confidence no matter that his appearance definitely did _NOT_ fit his surroundings. But that he didn't even seem to notice. Instead he crossed the distance to Harm's boat with determined steps and there stopped to look down on the normally taller man. Something he seemed to enjoy tremendously. His hands naturally settled on his hips.

"Morning, Commander."

"Mister Webb." Harm's greeting certainly lacked enthusiasm. "What brings you here?"

"Carter."

Harm raised his eyebrows.

"Lieutenant Jason Sullivan Carter," Webb stated more precisely after a moment. "That's your case, isn't it?"

Harm bent forward and finished untying the front rope. "Let's put it this way. It's my case when I'm on duty. What I am not at the moment."

"Well, well, well, there's a time the dedicated, always-at-the-ready Commander Rabb is not on duty? Never noticed that when you poked your nose in _MY_ work," Webb commented sarcastically. "But jokes aside, Rabb, I need any information you've got about that guy."

"Then I suggest you come to JAG headquarters on Monday morning. It's weekend."

Harm stored the rope neatly in the bow and started climbing back to the stern.

"I don't have time to wait till Monday morning. It's an emergency, Rabb."

"With you it's always an emergency. Anyway, what do _YOU_ have to do with my case?"

"That's a bit complicated. Hey, wait..." Webb followed Harm on the jetty. "Damn it, you will be able to postpone your sailing trip for half an hour!"

"In half an hour the weather might have changed," Harm lied smoothly.

Webb glanced skeptically at the sky. It was as blue and innocent as before. "Rabb..."

Harm sighed frustrated. He knew that tone.

"All right, Webb. If you need the information that badly then come on board. I will go sailing now no matter what."

"Excuse me?" Webb looked slightly flabbergasted. Obviously he hadn't expected _THAT_.

Harm grinned; he was starting to enjoy this. "Well, how is it? I'm going any second."

Webb heaved a mighty sigh while he obviously thought quickly. And then it was Harm's turn to be surprised as his tormentor actually started climbing into the dinghy. Looked like he'd underestimated the agent this time. But he was not done yet. Harm nodded at Webb's feet.

"Take off your shoes."

"What?" Webb just stared at him.

"Take off your shoes. And the socks too," Harm repeated not without satisfaction. "Shoes like that and deck planking are not meant for each other. And I don't want you to sue me if you slip and end up overboard. So take them off or get off. Your choice."

For a long moment it worked hard in Webb's face. Then he threw Harm a murderous look and reached for the laces. Harm quickly turned to the stern rope to hide his silent laughter. God, Webb had to need this information really, really badly to swallow that.

By the time Harm had freed the boat, started the tiny engine and left the jetty for the open bay Webb had placed his shoes to the side and stuffed the socks inside. Considering his expression he knew exactly how ridiculous he looked in suit and bare feet. On top of that he only seemed to get into Rabb's way while the other man set sails and climbing about in the unstable little boat did nothing for his self-esteem. So it was no wonder his mood had long hit the bottom when Rabb returned to the tiller and finished trimming the sails. But still, he even endured the cheeky smirk he received from the other man.

"Lieutenant Carter," he pressed his point. Albeit through gritted teeth.

Harm settled himself more comfortable. "What exactly do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Harm cocked his brows. It was extraordinarily tempting to tease Webb a bit more. Especially because just for once the man was in a position where he could not turn and go away to end the conversation. On the other hand he had the distinct feeling that a sailing trip with a _REALLY_ annoyed Clayton Webb on board wouldn't be that much fun. So he took a deep breath.

"All right then, Lieutenant Jason Sullivan Carter..."

Nearly thirty minutes later Webb had squeezed any tiny bit of information out of Harm that he could remember. Only as the Navy commander started answering his questions with rising ire did he back off. Then he just sat in silence for several minutes, staring blankly into space before he abruptly reached for his cell phone.

Harm checked the sails and glanced thoughtfully at his unwilling passenger. The cell phone had rung at least four times while they had talked. Webb had kept the interruptions short and - just as he did now - had always turned away and lowered his voice in an attempt to shut Harm out as much as possible. Although he wasn't sure if he actually wanted to hear what was spoken. Webb was a spy after all. God only knew what kind of important secrets were discussed in those calls. Harm pulled on a rope and fixed it again. A rather lopsided grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. On the other hand the topic could well have been the menu for lunch. Anything was possible when it came to Webb.

Sighing Harm pushed his sunglasses higher up his nose, still somewhat surprised that Webb hadn't had any with him. The following short exchange had started with a teasing "What, Webb, a spy without sunglasses?" - And ended in a rather harsh "Shut up, Rabb." Again Harm glanced at his passenger. Missing sunglasses or not, in the end even Webb had been forced to make amends to the heat. His dark jacket now rested neatly folded on his knees. He was drawn out of his observations when Webb closed his cell phone with a sharp snap and turned back to face him.

"Very well. It wasn't much but maybe it'll turn out useful."

"Hey, careful. Watch your tongue," Harm warned playfully. "I just talked myself raw to give you insight in Lieutenant Carter's life and career. I expect some respect."

"Oh, I'm _SO_ sorry, Rabb," Webb gave him a dark look before turning all business again. "You can drop me off somewhere now. I'll take a taxi."

Harm watched amused how his passenger took the first good look around for the last twenty minutes. They had reached the open bay by now and the coast was nothing more than a thin line on the horizon. Webb's alarmed expression indicated that his difficult situation finally dawned on him.

"Well, Clayton, you missed something here," Harm said lazily, "This is a boat and not a car. You can't simply stop and get off. Except you want to _SWIM_ back to the coast."

"Then turn around! I've got business to do!"

"If you plan to point out that the Nation's security is at stake without your immediate return be assured I won't believe you. Just as I said: I go sailing no matter what. So I suggest you'll lean back and relax."

"Harm!"

"No way, Clay. You've still got your cell. And you could tell me in the meantime why you are so interested in Carter. At least you can't run away from me here."

Webb's face showed in quick succession disbelief, indignation, panic and horrified comprehension. The agent opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. A second attempt he broke off too. No doubt countless curses were running through his mind. Only that all swearing in the world wouldn't change anything as he knew all too well. Feeling Harm's thoroughly amused gaze on him he counted inwardly to ten with remarkable self-restraint and racked his brain desperately for a solution to this dilemma. Unfortunately there wasn't any. They were not alone on open sea, there were other ships around in the distance but... Just to think of himself - standing in the boat and crying for help... Frustrated he closed his eyes and shook his head. The look he finally gave Harm promised revenge.

"I'll get you back for that, Rabb." But his voice betrayed his resignation.

"Anytime, Clay," Harm replied happily. Oh, he really did enjoy this situation!

Webb tiredly rubbed his face and then blinked up at the sun. After several more minutes of silence he finally gave up completely and started unbuttoning his vest. He shrugged it off, took off his tie, rolled everything neatly inside his jacket and carefully placed the bundle on his shoes. Lastly, he pushed up his sleeves and searched for a more comfortable position at the rail.

The silence stretched, filled only with the sound of the wind, the hiss of water along the wooden sides and the creaking and crackling of the rig. A strange peace fell over the boat.

Harm concentrated on rudder and sails. Initially he had wanted to pester Webb in the same fashion he had just been treated but right now he was content to savor the moment. He simply enjoyed the easiness with that the dinghy followed his commands, played with the wind and cut eagerly through the waves. Flying was excitement, a wild, untamed rush of adrenalin surging through his body ... this was the same in many ways and yet totally different.

Next time he'd definitely have to bring Renée. She would sure find some flippant comment about it. Or have any kind of crazy idea to make him laugh. Instead he had a man on board he found most of the time simply annoying. Someone he would never choose for company under normal circumstances.

Deep in thought Harm took in the now so different appearance of the CIA agent. And the longer he looked the more he got the impression that something had changed more than could be explained with wind tousled hair and bare feet. Webb had tilted his head back and held his face to the sun; just as if he rested comfortably in a deckchair while on vacation and had not been downright kidnapped by a Navy lawyer.

Harm frowned. What was it that was so completely different about the man? He thought of the usual Webb as he knew him, popping into JAG headquarters right out of nowhere with his arrogance and rude manners, asking - or better demanding - any sort of crazy things of them. Thought of the tight-lipped, stubborn agent who blocked their investigations for what he so easily declared to be "the greater good".

And suddenly he knew.

The tension was gone. The subtle tension that had always been in the body of the other man; so imperceptible that one only noticed it now when it was missing. A tension as if he had waited any moment for something unpleasant or unexpected to happen, as if the world was a dangerous and unsafe place where you could trust nothing and no one. And now, in this very moment, the tension was gone.

"How can you live like that?" Harm asked quietly.

Several long heartbeats it seemed like Webb hadn't heard him. Then the other man slowly turned his head to look at him, eyes narrowed against the sun, and Harm could have slapped himself.

"I don't think, I need to justify myself to you," Webb said coldly.

Harm opened his mouth to say something - an explanation, an apology, anything. But in the end he didn't. The moment was lost. And nothing would bring it back. Looking down he reached for the ropes and started turning the boat.

"I'll bring you back now."

Webb only nodded silently.

* * *

End of Episode Three


	4. Any Time

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**- Washington D.C., North of Union Station, Harm's apartment. Long past midnight. **

Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior, decorated officer and fearless pilot of the United States Navy, groaned and buried his face in his pillow. The knock at his apartment door was repeated. Sighing deeply he felt for the light switch and squinted at the alarm clock. At the sight of the 2 on the display he groaned a second time.

"What blasted idiot..."

Cursing under his breath Harm struggled out of bed and stumbled drowsily to the steps that led from the sleeping part of his apartment to the main area and then on towards the entrance. Whoever it was in front of his door - he was ready to give him or her a dressing-down that would be remembered for life. A glance through the peephole showed only a shadowy human silhouette in the nearly dark hall, nevertheless there was something vaguely familiar about it. Very familiar in fact.

"Oh, no, I don't believe it!" Harm unlocked the door and jerked it open then practically barked into his late visitor's face: "Webb! Damn it, do you know what time it is?"

Then he gasped and froze. Webb slowly lifted his head to look at him.

He wore one of his usual dark three-piece suits, all right. But _THIS_ suit was rather unusually wet or better absolutely soaked through ... a small puddle had already formed on the ground under the expensive leather shoes. The agent had wrapped his arms tightly around his upper body as if to suppress the continuous tremor that shook him. His skin was as white as chalk, even more so in comparison with the black wetness of his suit, dark rings were visible around his slightly glassy eyes.

"Jesus, Clayton," Harm whispered hoarsely, "What did happen? Come in, come on, come in."

He pushed the door wide open and reached for Webb's arm but the other man sidestepped his hand and entered the apartment by himself although slowly and moving very, very carefully. Harm's worry grew as he saw the definite sway in his steps. Whatever had happened, it had affected the CIA agent greatly.

Closing the door he tried to concentrate on what to do next. Something to warm him up, dry clothes, maybe a doctor. Most certainly a doctor. He determinedly turned the key.

"Come on, Clay. Up here."

This time the agent did not fight against the steadying hand that directed him upstairs and into the bathroom. Harm started the shower, peeled the icy jacket off Webb's shoulders, relieved him of his shoes, vest and weapon and then shoved the other man with gentle force under the steaming spray.

Webb gasped and shuddered but otherwise stood completely still as the heat rained down on him. Water was running freely over his rigid face and he coughed and choked a bit as he breathed the wrong way. Finally, after several long heartbeats he lifted an unsteady hand and brushed newly soaked hair off his forehead.

Harm watched it all with concern, ignoring the water dripping from his own arms. Minutes ticked by. Webb slowly closed his eyes and lowered his head even further, still rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. Then he turned slightly to look at him. Their eyes met. Harm gave the cold shoulder a soft squeeze.

"Warm up. I'll get you a towel."

He waited until the other man nodded weakly and started taking off his tie before turning away. After placing a large towel within easy reach he quickly pulled off his generously splashed shirt and went to look for something dry to wear for his guest and himself.

* * *

**- Washington D.C., North of Union Station, Harm's apartment. Later. **

Twenty minutes later Webb was sitting on the couch, not only wrapped in a too big bathrobe but additionally into a thick blanket, and sipped the hot tea Harm had prepared. He hadn't said much more than three words since his unexpected arrival. What was - considering he sometimes tended to like the sound of his own voice a bit too much - kind of a record.

Although this time Harm would have been willing to make concessions. Watching the other man closely the commander folded his hands around his own cup and waited for Webb to gather his thoughts. His patience was put to a severe test. Long minutes passed until Webb finally sighed softly, touched his fingertips to the large bruise at his left temple and in the end glanced at his host.

"Thank you."

"Not at all."

Pause.

"You should see a doctor, Clay."

Webb shook his head slightly. "I'm all right."

The movement seemed to cause him pain because he grimaced and closed his eyes for a second.

"Webb, you've got at least a concussion. Only God knows what else."

"I said I'm all right. Just a bit groggy. I need some sleep."

The words sounded like the old Webb ... the voice did it definitely not. Harm frown at the fine but quite audible tremor in it. He even opened his mouth but his protest remained unspoken as he noticed the almost desperately pleading look in Webb's eyes. Sighing inwardly he lowered his gaze and stared into his cup. He couldn't simply drag the other man to the next hospital, now could he? And right now he could not think of any doctor he knew well enough to throw out of bed at this late hour.

"What did happen?" he finally changed the subject.

Webb did not answer only rubbed his face tiredly. His skin had regained some color and looked less waxen but he still seemed awfully exhausted.

"Shall I call somebody? Pass someone a message?" Harm asked softly.

He had never seen the other man that vulnerable. Again he got only a weak shake of the head as answer. Feeling a strange mixture of frustration and concern he put down his cup and stood.

"You really need some sleep. Come on. You can have my bed."

Webb started protesting half-heartedly that he could well sleep on the couch but didn't resist as Harm took his cup away and pulled him to his feet. They somehow made it up the stairs one more time and over to the bed where the agent seemed to be asleep as soon as he touched the covers.

Looking down at the motionless body Harm simply stood there for a long moment and shook his head. If anybody had told him even yesterday that Clayton Webb would end up sleeping in his bed one day he would have called him crazy or worse. And now... Harm rolled his eyes upwards, shook his head a second time and turned away.

As he sat down on the couch he glanced at the clock and sighed. Tomorrow would be another long, hard day at the office and he would really like some sleep but ... somehow it seemed doubtful he would get that much tonight.

* * *

**- The next morning, Harm's apartment. **

Harm felt his eyelids drop dangerously as he mechanically stirred the scrambled eggs he was preparing for breakfast. Making a small face he took another sip of the hot, extra strong coffee that was supposed to wake him up.

Of course he had barely slept after taking Webb to bed. On the one hand he hadn't been able to stop wondering what had happened to his unexpected guest. On the other he had got up almost every twenty minutes to check if Webb was still all right. Reluctant as he was to admit it but the thought he could find the other man dead in his bed the next morning had had something quite unsettling.

And it was only little comfort that Webb obviously hadn't spent a very restful night too. More than once Harm had quietly straightened the tangled sheets. Whatever nightmares had haunted the other man's sleep they must have been unpleasant. Although neither his dreams nor Harm's frequent visits had managed to wake him up. Truth to be told neither had Harm's activities in the bathroom or later his rummaging in the kitchen.

Looking up at a small sound Harm corrected his last assumption. Webb stood at the bottom of the stairs and was watching him silently.

The agent wore again the too big bathrobe and seemed to feel all but comfortable in it. But at least he did no longer look like a sleepwalker or as if he would drop unconscious any other second. His appearance still was worlds apart from his normal perfectly groomed self - the messy hair and especially the shadow of a beard on his chin were a nearly traumatic sight for Harm - but color had now returned fully into his face and the dark circles around his eyes had faded considerably compared to last night.

"Morning," Webb offered finally with some hesitation.

Harm suddenly realized he had been staring motionless for several minutes, reached for a plate and nodded in the direction of a stool at the kitchen counter.

"Sit down. Hungry?"

Webb slowly padded closer and finally climbed on the offered seat. He sniffed the air tentatively.

"As long as it isn't tofu stir-fry..."

Harm suppressed a grin and piled scrambled eggs on two plates. "Another time. Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

Webb helped himself to some bread and dragged his fork through the eggs. After some bites he gestured at the radio.

"Mind turning on the news?"

"No problem." Harm adjusted the volume and sat back down. "Waiting for something special?"

Once more he received no answer. This got just a _TAD_ exhausting. He took into his own breakfast. The song on the radio ended and a reporter started talking very fast about some traffic jam. Then the music continued. Webb tapped his fork on the plate.

"Where's Renée?"

"Doing an advertisement in the desert of Arizona."

"Oh."

"Well, she seemed to be quite enthusiastic. You know how she is."

Both men spent some more time on their eggs. Harm glanced every now and then at Webb's lowered head and finally couldn't restrain himself any longer.

"Care to tell me what happened last night?"

Webb sipped his coffee and grimaced. He shrugged. "I took a swim in the river."

"Thought I knew that smell," Harm commented dryly. This got him a look that reminded considerably of the old Webb.

"In your suit?" he pushed to keep the conversation from dying again.

"With the car."

"The car." Harm needed a moment to comprehend what he had just heard. Then he abruptly slammed his cup down. "_THE CAR?_"

A tiny smile played around the corner of Webb's mouth.

"The car, yes. Can't recommend it." He grew serious again. "Harm, you know I can't tell you what happened. That's..."

"... classified. What else," Harm growled sarcastically. "You take a dive with the car, crawl across half the town on my doorstep and are now waiting if your stunt made it into the news. Just Great!"

"Harm..." Webb squirmed uncomfortably under the angry glare. He ran his fingers through his hair. And unintentionally the gesture drew the other man's attention to the thick bump at his temple that had by now turned a magnificent shade of dark blue.

Harm felt his anger evaporate. He sighed. What had he expected, really? Webb was Webb and would always be.

"You know you sometimes quite get on my nerves, don't you?" he said in a more friendly tone. "The important thing is you managed to get out in time. Looks like you took quite a blow there."

Webb touched the swelling and flinched. "I was lucky."

For a moment his voice betrayed a hint of the emotions the memory stirred up. Fear, shock, pain, disbelief this could happen to him. For a moment its dark echo showed in his eyes before everything was hastily clamped down and locked back in the secret place Clayton Webb had reserved for these things.

But not fast enough for Harm to miss it.

"I should make a phone call," said Webb abruptly. "Did I still have my cell last night?"

He frowned but Harm would have been exceptionally surprised if he remembered more than foggy pictures. He stood and walked to his desk.

"It was there, yes. But I don't think your bath agreed with it." An assumption that proved all too correct after a short inspection. Harm nodded at his own telephone. "Take that one. I'll go and change in the meantime."

* * *

**- Harm's apartment. **

By the time Harm had fixed his uniform Webb had finished his phone call and came looking for his clothes. Harm retrieved the hanger from the bathroom and they considered the sorry mess that was left of a once expensive, tailored three-piece suit. Harm shrugged.

"Well, I guess there isn't much hope either. You can have some of my stuff if you want to."

"Very funny, really." Webb gave him a sidelong glance and made sure to take extra notice of the fact that the Navy commander was a good deal taller than he was. He fingered the clammy fabric with a gloomy expression. "All right, maybe a shirt. The pants will do somehow."

Biting back any further comment Harm took a white shirt out of the closet and handed it over. "Shaving kit is above the sink. And in the bottom drawer you should find a new toothbrush."

Webb nodded and disappeared in the bathroom while Harm made short work of the dishes. He had barely stored the last plate away when Webb came back, freshly shaved, dressed and combed. The agent almost looked like himself as he walked down the steps while discreetly slipping his weapon in a pocket of the jacket he held across one arm.

Except for the still slightly wet pair of trousers, the water stains on his shoes and the fact that he had to roll up the sleeves because the shirt was too big. And, of course, the large bruise on his face together with a shadow of fatigue in his stance.

Nevertheless Harm found it hard to believe that he had almost had to carry the same man into his apartment just a few hours ago. He gave the counter one last wipe and cleared his throat.

"Shall I drive you to your apartment?"

"No thanks, I'll be picked up any moment."

"Whatever."

Harm took up his briefcase and unlocked the door then reached for the handle. Webb's hand on his arm stopped him. The agent once more appeared uncertain. And strangely vulnerable.

"Harm, I..."

A long moment they stood like that, looking at each other. Then Harm nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Any time, Clayton. Any time."

Webb's gaze dropped then he looked back up and forced a small smile. Without another word they left the apartment.

* * *

End of Episode Four and end of Strange Friends

* * *

Author's note: A big, heartfelt Thank You to everyone who sent a review. Your opinion is always appreciated. And to the silent readers: I hope you enjoyed.


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